Babies
by casfics
Summary: When a suspicious cardboard box is discovered in the waiting area of the E.D, the team quickly realises it is an unusual Tuesday day shift. However, Ethan remains haunted by a secret he has no choice but to keep, otherwise life will be destroyed for good.
1. chapter 1

Sharp, mewling, a cry pierces the hubbub of chatter in the waiting room.

Then silence.

Another cry, only it's more like a scream this time, lost, wanting help.

Mrs Beauchamp eyes the surrounding staff members before purposefully pacing over to behind the row of occupied plastic chairs. She clears her throat once, signalling the patients to move elsewhere whilst she conducts her search. They hobble to the other side of the room at once.

A cardboard box sits tucked behind. It is visibly battered and worn, yet surprisingly industrial in size. The sort you would use for transporting heavy items or leftover packaging from a larger product, perhaps a washing machine or tumble dryer.

'Oh– oh _God_ —' she mutters, hair falling before her face.

'I can call pest control?' Noel offers unhelpfully from ten feet away.

Charlie rushes over, barging Alicia in a way that would send her double espresso flying had her fingers not been clenched around the polystyrene. He glances over at the clinical lead, who is frozen and crouched aside the half-open box, before springing into action himself.

'Prepare resus. Two infants in need of immediate medical attention. If I were to hazard a guess, I would say we need to treat and transfer to the SCBU in Manchester. Can someone please make that call?'

There is a collective gasp of horror as he pulls the first from the box, scrawny and almost grey in colour but for the shock of ginger hair. Mrs Beauchamp snaps out of her daze and lifts the second, completely bald and skin a more reassuring purple-red. They shield them protectively, removing them from full view of everyone.

'Two—?' Ethan asks, clipping his stethoscope round his neck and striding in pursuit. 'Who in their right mind would leave two babies so small in a box?'

'They likely weren't in their right mind, that's just it.' Charlie quips. 'Silver linings, eh? Least they left their twins in a hospital rather than in an alleyway somewhere.'

'They clearly wanted them to be found. Terribly reckless.' Ethan mumbles.

'Quit the chatter!' barks Connie, lying the first baby on the sheet carefully yet assuredly. 'Male, estimating about three hours old. Gestation approximately 34 weeks and 5lb 2oz. It's a miracle he survived in that tiny box. He is a little on the cold yet otherwise well.'

'Jack,' says Robyn. 'Strong name for a little fighter.'

'Suits him,' agrees Mrs Beauchamp, momentarily mellowed by the sight of the writhing baby.

'Female over here, still covered in amniotic fluid. I would estimate 2 hours old, perhaps little over that. Lungs are struggling to inflate but are much better now I've put her on oxygen, though this is a temporary solution. Birth weight at 3lb 10oz is lower than I'd expect for 34 weeks.' Ethan asserts.

'Nora,' offers Robyn from the other side of the room as she rummages for the cannulas. 'It means light. I liked it a couple of years ago when it was featured in the baby names book I borrowed.'

They all pause and observe the babies for a second.

Charlie purses his lips. 'The mother will be in need of urgent attention and it is important we put out an appeal immediately. Noel also needs to be aware to phone the police at the earliest convenience. We need a social worker ready to take the case once they arrive in Manchester.'

'This one — Jack — can stay here. He isn't in need of specialist treatment as such. We could take him down to the paeds ward and he could be in the care of the team down there. Unnecessary transport would be more risky than keeping him in the hospital.' Mrs Beauchamp comments, looking around for approval. 'I think he needs to be transferred to another department here at Holby.'

Ethan shakes his head in anguish. 'But we _can't_ split siblings up, I—'

'We can if it's what's best for them,' replies Charlie gently. 'It's our duty to act in their best interests. Their mother clearly didn't think of them being split up.'

'They were wrapped in the same shawl in the same box. It's July, in fairness, maybe she thought they would be too warm.' Robyn suggests, slotting her finger into the palm of the little boy.

Connie nods. 'Clearly she didn't think of much. Desperately sad. People get themselves into terrible situations. We'll have to check the CCTV to see if it caught anything. There's a camera right above the waiting area, actually. If someone pops down to IT after we've contacted the police hopefully we'll get somewhere in identifying the woman or girl.'

'I will,' replies Ethan quickly. 'It's the least I can do.'

'Good. Escort Nora to Manchester with the paramedics in case she deteriorates enroute, heaven forbid there's any rush hour traffic.' Mrs Beauchamp instructs.

'How long does that journey normally take?' he replies.

'An hour and a half depending. You'll need to handle the exchange with the department there and make sure she is settled. IV access will be continually needed until they sort out a nutrition plan, alright? And monitor heart rate throughout. Temperature regulation is vital at this stage.'

'Yes, of course. I'm not a complete idiot.' Ethan responds before he can help himself, regretting it the second he sees the clinical lead recoil.

A timely distraction occurs the second Robyn scoops up Jack and flinches slightly at the harsh rustle of clinical plastic sheets. The baby snuggles in instinctively. He should be on a designated ward in his mother's arms, not having to settle for the foreign hold of a nurse. Surrounding him should be balloons and cards and relatives eager for a cuddle.

They all need to busy themselves but instead they are equally transfixed, in awe of the little creatures that started their Tuesday morning off so rocking.

All of this is wrong.


	2. chapter 2

The first thing Ethan does when he leaves the poky side room is head for the toilets. He has to. Self respect doesn't even come into the equation, but he can't possibly afford to have any extra problems. Or anything else to even entertain mentally.

He is violently sick. Not once, but twice. That part wasn't a surprise. His stomach did its typical scrunch and lurch the second he saw the CCTV footage. And he wishes with every fibre in his body that he could erase it from his mind or better, every dimension of time. Toilets make too-frequent dwelling places for his miseries. The bitter stench of stale urine isn't even worsening his repulsion. His chin suddenly feels stiff, as if made of glue, and he hurls again.

'You okay, mate?' a patient calls through the door. 'Can I get you anything?'

'Must've eaten something bad. The perils of being a shift worker I suppose!' Ethan forces cheeriness, scrubs his face with the budget toilet paper and emerges with a half smile.

The man frowns. 'You don't look too clever.'

'Nor do I feel it!'

'Busy morning for you medics? Heard about those babies. Poor little sods, don't stand a chance without a mother, do they?'

'They have got a mother and I'm sure the circumstances were undeniably tough.'

'Will you ever trace 'em?' he asks gruffly, smoothing out his unkempt stubble in the mirror.

'I have no doubt,' replies Ethan faintly. 'Catch you later.'

He makes his way out of the loos, if nothing else but to avoid further interaction, then begins to pace down the right corridors to the staffroom. No porters stop and ask for his clarification, nobody smiles, waves: he is clearly on a mission and on a path nobody wishes to interfere with.

There is a congregation of staff members sitting around by the lockers, discussing the events of the morning in hushed tones. Mrs Beauchamp is pacing the corridors with Jack in arms, which Ethan is positive contravenes various rules of good practice, but overlooks it because she is his superior and nothing is running exactly swimmingly at the moment.

'Are you ready to accompany the paramedics?' she quizzes him. 'And did the CCTV come good?'

'It was grainy,' he lies. 'They couldn't see well. I am popping back in before I leave.'

Mrs Beauchamp looks sceptical but relatively convinced, something that relieves him. More time is bought if nothing else.

'Ten minutes and they really need to be setting off.'

His mouth dries. 'Little man looks— much _healthier_ now he is in his clothes.'

They are not the words he wants to say. He wants to lament about how he is a carbon copy of his mummy, strikingly like her. But he doesn't. Like a rabbit in the headlights, his expression is frozen and fixed as he stares at the infant in his colleague's arms. Tiny and still like a potato but looking much more human, less like a creature that had just landed in the hospital. More permanent. His little face scrunches as he sobs once more and Ethan's stomach flips.

He weaves his way through the bustling staffroom, into the next corridor, into the on call room: standard hiding place of choice.

Before he goes in he pauses. Once he's said all he needs to say, nothing will ever be the same again. He barely even knows her yet he is all prepared to tear her to shreds for what she has done, leaving two babies on their own.

There's a rustle from inside the room that jolts him back upright. Footsteps patter to the door.

'Hello, can I help— oh, it's just you.'

'Yes, just me,' he appraises her. 'What are you doing in here when you are supposed to be in cubicles?'

'Just looking for something,' she replies, folding her arms over her noticeably swollen chest. 'I thought you were on your break?'

'Same idea as you, evidently,' retorts Ethan tightly.

'I-I don't follow.'

'I am also searching for something. A mother of two fragile babies left withering away in a cardboard box.'

Her eyes are sad and wide and she manages a little nod, before swallowing once and glancing back at her feet. 'I hope you find her. Terribly sad situation.'

Silence.

She fixes her matted bleached hair, rubs her near-crimson eyes vigorously and adjusts her uniform to disguise the grey hue of her skin. No colour graces her cheeks and hunched shoulders suggest she is carrying the weight of the world, or has been.

Something rushes through his veins as he sees her before him.

Ethan shakes his head slightly. 'You are skating on _thin ice_.'

'Sorry?'

He scoffs. 'Alicia, what were you thinking?'

'Thinking? I-'

'Don't play the fool. How dare you? Why did you let them go? You had options, choices, the world at your feet—'

Her eyes harden. 'I had no glimmer of hope. Nobody was there for me. Not my parents, not my friends, not you. You left me waiting all those months ago and have made it quite clear you can't stand to be in the same room ever since. The thought alone of—'

'It is cowardice! You could have reached out!' he hisses.

'Well, I didn't feel like I could,' she answers quietly, sullenly, as if reduced in the moment to a sulking child.

'So you chose to do this instead? They are your own flesh and blood, Christ, the irresponsibility is hard to comprehend.'

'Exactly! Which is why I left them somewhere I knew they'd be cared for properly. What else was I supposed to do? I wasn't ready, Ethan, I wasn't thinking straight—'

'Then you should have called me.'

'Oh should I? After you'd been so distant and cold, I—'

'That's what friends are for,' he tries, exasperated. 'I would have come to your rescue if only I'd known.'

'Some knight in shining armour,' quips Alicia, leaning against the cupboard and burying her head in her hands.

'You've put me in an impossible position. Those babies need their mother, Nora particularly, and the authorities need to know.'

'Nora?' Alicia asks, almost dazed.

'We settled on that name. She's at serious risk of bronchopulmonary dysplasia. I agreed to accompany her to Manchester and hand her over to the specialist team.'

Her eyes fill with tears. 'I never went for any scans or anything. I know that's reckless. I, I've no idea how far along I was but I feel so guilty they are prem—'

'They need their mother, Alicia. They need you.'

'You have to promise not to tell anyone!' she clutches his arm, eyes wild with panic.

'And in doing so compromise lives and put my job on the line?' he replies a little more gently. 'You know I must do what is best.'

He does not rip his arm away from her hold.

'So will I, then.'

'You- you'll see them?!' he asks incredulously.

She sniffs loudly. 'If you tell, I will be straight to Mrs Beauchamp to file a complaint about your care of Scott, or lack thereof.

He laughs shortly, harshly. 'Blackmail, right. Either I have a life of a murderer on my conscience or the life of him, two innocent babies and you. It's no contest.'

'But please, I will go to prison for neglect—'

'And so would I either way! This is a treacherous position for me. I would move mountains to protect you from your own stupidity, but I don't know if I'm willing to risk so much.'

Both of them stand and stare at each other, evaluating their opinions, though there are few. Ethan hates himself. Of course she is right; crucially right. If he had been there from the start then the catastrophe would not have unfolded. Now they are frozen in their own place of work by shortcomings they regret. It is undeniably a mess. His throat clenches and seizes and he recognises her pain, unfortunately, rather like the back of his hand. She is less of a stranger at once and more of a woman scared.

The clammy sensation is distracting: her calloused hands are like plastic gripping his arm.

'We didn't have this conversation then,' says Ethan with guilt. 'The mother of the twins must have gone off the radar. But there are conditions I'm not willing to compromise on, otherwise I will be forced to share everything I know.'

'Anything,' she whispers earnestly.

'You let me evaluate your condition and needs, both medically and psychologically, and deliver any treatment as I see fit.'

'I- I don't need anything though—'

'Alicia,' he says, locking eyes with her. 'Fine if you don't want to be seen by me. You can be seen by someone else just as soon as I let them know you've given birth today.'

She rubs her head and says nothing.

'Check your photos right back to December time and see if you have any of the father. Even just a name would do. His identity is vital to us as he potentially could be an option for support, even if it was just a one night stand.'

A smile dances across her lips which doesn't fail to irritate him further. In his view, nothing could be further from amusing than this.

'You go down to see your little boy, Jack. He is with Mrs Beauchamp and then will be moving to the paeds team. When he can be discharged, he will be allocated with a foster family. It may well be the case that they keep him forever if the mother does not come forward. If that is what you want, then fine, but you need to make your choice and see him properly first.'

'That it?' she asks quietly.

'You tell me everything later. Birth times, circumstance, what you've done to cope, how you masked a bump under your scrubs and just had everyone believe you'd had too many kebabs—'

They chuckle.

'I will always be here through thick and thin. You are crazy for believing for a second the contrary to that could ever be true.'

'I do care for them, I've loved them since I knew,' Alicia mumbles. 'Every minute of every day.'

'And right now, they're in desperate need. You need to go and see them. I have seen Jack and he is your double. I don't know if you particularly looked at him when you had him. Offer to take him from Mrs Beauchamp a while and blame the tears on fatigue. I've got your back so long as you have theirs. You won't regret this. I need to go.'

'Thank you,' she whispers.

He manages a weak smile and turns on achy feet to leave the room, feeling he has done his duty as best as he possibly could.

'One last thing,' she says, shuffling on her feet a little. 'Make sure you give Nora a cuddle from me.'

He nods thoughtfully.

Alicia clears her throat. 'She needs one of us.'


End file.
